Opinion

Now that I am an octogenarian, my sense of risk increases at every turn. At the same time, I have gained an understanding of vulnerability as a character trait that allows me to be more open to what the world may offer.

Two stories about good Samaritans in this week's paper and another heard around the office serve as reminders to heartily thank the lifesavers, first responders, and CPR trainers among us.

Waiting on a new diesel engine for Cerberus, my sailboat. And then waiting some more.

Goodbye to a wonderful citizen who, faithfully, week in and week out, wrote hundreds of letters to the editor of his local paper.

The “Noyack” spelling has strength, certainty. It amounts to a tribute, and it looks good.

It’s a rare thing to be part of an all-female crew on a sailboat, and yet that’s where I found myself in the middle of Noyac Bay.

We have to listen to the data and the scientists, and what science is telling us now is that the earth is getting hot as hell.

The marsh has been underwater more often this year than the last. I suspect that sea level rise has a lot to do with it.

The water table is very close to the surface here in much of the village and, as the climate changes and the rains increase, it’s only rising.

A dip at Noyac's Long Beach gives rise to thoughts of where a guy's been, and what's been happening on the South Fork over the last two decades.

Down the road I found a cream-colored, brown-speckled pony staked to a post in a farmer's yard. He was stunted, thick-barreled, short-necked. My stack of bills and quarters was enough, and a horsewoman was born.

According to federal statistics, child drownings continue to be the leading cause of death among children from 1 to 4 years old.

Footing is simply shuffling along in the water, toes in the sand or mud, feeling for the characteristic immobility and sharp edges of a clam alive in its shell.

Is this July 9 birthday coincidence not astonishing? Daughter, father, grandfather, and best friend?

In a resort community like ours, there are beach days . . . and then there are days when there is, as the kids complain, "nothing to do."

The Fourth of July in 1827 was the day that slavery officially ended in New York State.

Those doing this duty are the unsung heroes of the waterways, ridding potentially thousands of gallons of wastewater from boats from the region’s most precious resource.

It was a track athlete’s worst nightmare, and now the defending 800 meters gold medalist won’t be going to the Paris Games this summer.

The love of objects isn’t necessarily symptomatic of greed. Sometimes they become an extension of who we are, and a tangible sign of our connection to others.

On this Fourth of July, we need to say clearly that the American flag belongs to us all, not one political party, not just one person.

Joe Biden has dedicated his life to public service, but he cannot win this one. The debate of June 27 was a tipping point.

From Memorial Day to Labor Day, Americans typically consume 7 billion hot dogs.

Europeans make fun of Americans for the way we go about grinning and chirping banalities at one another, but we don’t do it because we’re all idiots, but because the smiling, nodding, and have-a-nice-day-ing are folk customs that serve a social purpose.

The New York Post and The Daily Mail seized on the Justin Timberlake D.W.I. stop to sling insults at the arresting officer — who was simply doing his job.

It’s encouraging. It’s worrying. It’s a stopover at Watkins Glen State Park.

If you were witty, she was delighted. If you were needy, she was giving. If you were aspirational, she was your number-one cheerleader. We all should be more like Mary Graves.

At the Long Lane and Stephen Hand’s intersection, should we really be shifting heavier, faster traffic there from Montauk Highway?

Time was that “Turtle Crossing” signs were seen here and there. I don’t know where they all went, but the turtles didn’t go away.

The most spectacular piece of loot ever found on the beach by a member of my family was a human hand.

The high school classes of 2024 walk across the stage in the June sunshine in the coming week, diplomas in hand and mortarboards hurled skyward and step across an invisible Rubicon into an adult future that, at this precise moment, feels uncertain at best and possibly perilous.